The Stag and the Kingslayer
by Wingardiumleviosong
Summary: Jaime Lannister has arrived back to King's Landing to find chaos he could never have imagined. Meanwhile, the Blacksmith's apprentice in Fleabottom has been hiding a secret for three long years. Upon visiting the Blacksmith, Jaime and the apprentice find themselves thrown together in a mission they could never have foreseen. Post Season 6. Arya-Gendry and Jaime-Brienne tones.
1. Chapter 1

Jaime could feel and hear the blood coursing through his veins at the moment. He looked down at the blonde-haired woman sat on the Iron Throne, and questioned if he even knew this person anymore.

It was Cersei.

But it also wasn't Cersei. It was as though somebody had taken away the sister he loved, and replaced her with a lookalike.

He had been quietly informed on his return to the Red Keep that King Tommen had died. Fear had immediately bolted into his heart. He remembered, many years ago, how Tyrion had said that Cersei's one redeeming quality was that she loved her children. He had, in private, thought how wrong Tyrion was.

But now, looking down on Cersei, he questioned if that were true. This woman was now childless. And she was sat on that Throne, where her son had sat mere hours before, with a grim expressionless face.

He had no doubt in his mind that it was she who was responsible for the wildfire at the Sept. Cersei had always vowed that the Sparrow and his followers would pay for the damage done to their family - but Jaime had not imagined she would take that to such an extreme.

All of a sudden Jaime felt dizzy, hot, panic stricken.

His mind flashed with Aerys sat there, yelling. Aerys screaming at the pyromancer to "BURN THEM ALL." Aerys demanding that Jaime give him Tywin's head on a plate. Aerys expecting Jaime to sit by and do nothing as half a million people burned alive.

A slow feeling of cold terror grew over Jaime then.

He had killed a King who had tried to burn King's Landing.

And now he was staring at a Queen who had done exactly what Jaime had killed Aerys for trying to do.

Jaime had to turn away, his hand tightly clenched as he wrestled with nightmares in his brain.

He needed to speak with Cersei.

And then he needed to find Bronn.

He had not worn that 'Kingslayer' title so painfully for so many years to then have his sister do what he lost his honour for trying to prevent happen.

Tears of rage and sorrow stung at Jaime's eyes as he left the Throne Room.

He had just prevented a massacre at Riverrun, and returned to King's Landing to find a massacre had occurred in his absence.

—

The deafening roar of the Sept collapsing could be both heard and felt across all of King's Landing - from the Red Keep all the way down to Flea Bottom. There was almost an eerie silence immediately after, followed by panic.

People ran amok down Gin Alley, not caring that they were splashing through human waste. The normal chatter that ran through Flea Bottom was gone, with everyone racing back to their homes, to safety. Why their homes would be any safer, given how the Sept had been blown up from beneath, nobody had an answer to - but it was the logic that flew through everybody's mind.

The only place that was still somewhat heaving with business was the Blacksmith's Forge in Flea Bottom. People were suddenly finding stray coppers, silver stags, and the occasional golden dragon in their homes (though the Blacksmith suspected the dragons must be stolen.) They came to the Forge pleading for blades to be made, blades to be sharpened. If the city was to be attacked, they wanted to go down fighting.

Of course, few of that crowd knew the first thing about fighting. But, just as hiding inside their homes theoretically helped nothing, they craved a sword to at the very least feel like they were doing something.

Most people in Flea Bottom trusted the work at the Blacksmith's Forge. Master Mott had proven himself to be a skilled labourer, and a loyal and just one at that. He never overcharged, and always tried to do the absolute best he could for those asking.

He also had an apprentice who lurked in the back of the shop, and never was seen to interact with customers. When questioned about the boy, Mott would laugh and say, "Every Blacksmith needs an extra pair of hands! He's just doing his job as well as he can do." It was never questioned, because the boy certainly did his job well - he made steel sing as he hit it.

Some who had been in Fleabottom their whole lives sometimes noted that, from behind at any rate, the boy slightly resembled an apprentice Mott had had 5 years previously. But all rumours of that were always quashed by the fact that Mott had sold that boy to the Watch - and once you swore yours vows to the Watch, you couldn't unswear them. Besides, it had been 5 years. Nobody would have recognised that boy. Those who had suspicions told themselves it was caused by simply remembering and yearning for a happier, safer time in the capital.

Only Mott and his apprentice knew the truth.

The boy had turned up at King's Landing almost three weeks after leaving Dragonstone. He had held onto Ser Davos' advice the whole time - "Don't fall out." - and he had done his best not to. But at times, the water terrified him out of his wits; and after 17 days of constantly rowing, the boy had wanted to give up. He was sure he was rowing in circles now - and his food and water supply had long run out.

He had almost accepted defeat that morning, the morning the rain came, and he sat there with tears streaming down his face, his tongue outstretched, desperate for the sweet taste of fresh water. His arms were burning, he was cold, he was tired, and he felt betrayed.

Right there and then, he had wished that the rain and the sea could join together and swallow him up whole, away from this painful place. He was returning to King's Landing - but for what? He had nowhere to go, no family to speak of, no place to call home.

And then suddenly, as clear as day, he had heard in his head her voice.

" _I_ can be your family," she said, her tearful face matching his right now.

That only made the boy cry harder. How could he possibly have told her that she already was the closest thing to a family he had ever had - she was highborn, and he was a bastard. Knowing now that he was a bastard with blood as noble as hers stung like a slap across his face.

He had given her up for the Brotherhood, who had in turn given him to Melisandre.

He heard her voice ring out in his head again.

"STUPID BULL!"

The boy sat up, trying to calm his sob-stricken breaths. He imagined her seeing him right now and could almost feel the inevitable kick she would be giving him for being a spineless idiot. In spite of himself, he found himself smiling.

He had to get back to King's Landing, he had finally decided, not only for his own life but to then go and find her. She would be with her brother now, he was sure - and he was going to go back and let this girl know that she was his family, that he wanted that.

It was that which kept him warm on his final pull into King's Landing, through the day of rain and wind and raging storm.

As soon as he had moored at King's Landing, he headed straight for Flea Bottom. He didn't care what happened to the boat - he would be perfectly happy if he never had to set eyes on it again, frankly. He remembered Ser Davos' words to him: "Have a bowl of brown for me."

Maybe Master Mott would have some.

The memory of how, five years ago, Master Mott had sold him to the Watch had twisted in him like a knife - but he had nowhere else to go. Mott had always treated him well. Surely he would give him board, even for a night or so.

As he had tramped through the winding alleys in the rain, he heard those passing him shouting about the Red Wedding. He felt his face pulled into a confused expression. Perhaps the King had finally got married. He would have to ask Mott.

Finally, he had arrived at the Blacksmith's - and it was all shut up for the night. He had desperately pounded on the door, and eventually he heard the clicks and snaps of locks being undone as Mott opened it.

Mott's jaw dropped. " _Gendry_?" he had said incredulously. "Is that you?!"

—

Unbeknown to the thousands in chaos in King's Landing, a few miles North a young girl had slipped out of The Twins and into the trees surrounding it - and as she entered, she was met with the howl of a hundred wolves.


	2. Chapter 2

The words kept dancing round and round his head. _Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. Man without honour._

As those words spun in his mind, her words spun too: _"I know there is honour in you. I've seen it myself."_ He was suddenly hit with an overwhelming longing to be back in that tent with her, away from here, anywhere in Westeros away from here.

Jaime angrily reeled round and struck one of the walls within the Keep with his golden hand. He could not afford to injure the only working hand he had, but a part of him wished he could use his left to hit walls, to feel the pain reverberating through his body, showing how he truly felt right now.

 _Kingslayer_. Jaime hit the wall again. _Oathbreaker_. And again. _Man without honour_. As he turned to strike the wall a third time he caught sight of Bronn.

"If you're not careful, you're going to knock the whole bloody Keep down," Bronn observed. "Unless that's actually what you're aiming to do. In which case, as you were."

"How did you find me?"

Bronn looked at Jaime as though he were as thick as a plank of wood.

"I followed you to the Keep, remember? Didn't fancy sticking around in the main city, not after what's just happened. Too much tension. Though I hear the Fleabottom Blacksmith is doing a roaring trade. People wanting to protect themselves now."

Jaime just looked at him.

"And also, golden hand on stone isn't exactly a quiet noise. It was quite simple really."

"She did this," Jaime's voice was low and unsteady. "Cersei burnt the _damn_ Sept down! There were innocent people in there, and she _killed_ them!"

"I can't exactly argue with you, I mean everything - oh no, do carry on," Bronn trailed off as Jaime furiously opened his mouth to continue, ignoring Bronn's comment.

"You cannot understand - _nobody_ can understand - the things I've done - I got called _Kingslayer -_ all for nothing - she -" Jaime opened and closed his mouth, and swallowed hard. "That's why she had no problem in sending me away. Because she knew I would never let this happen. I had to be gone for her to do this."

Bronn rolled his eyes as Jaime hurled his hand at the wall again.

"Well, it certainly is one reaction to what she's done. But I suppose going on trial would admit to fucking her brother, and fucking her cousin too, actually so -"

" _By burning your enemies alive -_ wait, fucking a cousin? Who?"

"Your cousin Lancel, I assumed you knew this. Tyrion told me, years ago. Reckon it was when you were captured by Robb Stark, come to think of it," Bronn was smirking slightly at how Jaime hadn't immediately gone to deny sleeping with Cersei.

"I need to speak with Cersei, immediately," Jaime's voice was cold and empty, unlike anything Bronn had ever heard before. "And when I am done, we leave this place."

"Excuse me," Bronn swaggered nearer him. "I have spent the last few weeks hearing you go off on one about how your place is here - and now we're back, you want to go?"

Jaime's eyes met Bronn's. "Yes."

"We off on a quest to find another, blonder woman?"

Jaime ignored him, and turned away, heading in the direction of Cersei's chambers.

"I have several things I need to do. But sort the horses and some provisions. I will ensure you are rewarded handsomely once we have left King's Landing," he called to Bronn over his shoulder before disappearing down a different corridor.

"Oh yes, of course," Bronn grumbled to himself, preparing to be faced with the horses, again, "because a Lannister always pays his fucking debts."

—

Mott had almost literally pulled Gendry through the door, and immediately locked it up as fast as his hands could allow. He shoved Gendry through into the house at the back of the Forge, sat him down at the small table, and shoved a bowl of brown into his hands, all in quick succession.

Gendry had remembered what Ser Davos had said to him, and smiled. After weeks at sea, the brown looked like luxury to him.

"So." Mott had sat down opposite him. "What in Seven Hells are you doing here, boy? Why aren't you at the Wall?"

"I never made it there," Gendry scooped up a spoonful of brown. "The goldcloaks came and killed the man in charge when we were in the Riverlands."

"The goldcloaks chased you all to the Riverlands?!"

Gendry nodded.

"Seven Hells. Where in the name of the gods have you been since then?"

"I was at Harrenhal for a bit. Grouped up with two others who were meant to be headed North, and we escaped. Then I got captured again, and, well, here I am now."

"I am so sorry lad."

Gendry had shrugged. "Can't help the way things go. I know I'm not welcome here. I know you sold me. But I don't have anywhere else to go."

Mott was chewing his lip.

"Why did you sell me?" Gendry said quietly. "I was happy here, I did good work. What did I do wrong, or is this just a thing about me, that people enjoy letting me down?"

"I didn't _want_ to sell you. You were the best apprentice I ever had." Mott had looked in physical pain as he tried to put his words together. "But I overheard Lord Eddard Stark talking, that time he came to visit you. I heard rumours of children being killed by the Lannisters." He looked Gendry straight in the eye. "I sent you away to protect you."

"Why?"

"Look, lad, I don't know anything for certain. But Lord Stark seemed to know who your father was. And that put you in danger here."

"I'm King Robert Baratheon's son, aren't I?"

Mott blinked. "How do you know that?"

"It's a long story."

"King Robert's bastards were being killed across the city. I couldn't let that happen to you."

Gendry had felt like his mind was swimming. "So you weren't sick of me?"

"No, lad. Never."

Mott reached forward to pick up the now empty bowl of brown off the table. "You're welcome to stay here, work with me again. But we need you to interact with people as little as possible. Somebody might still recognise you."

"It's alright. I can't stay here forever. I have someone I need to look for. They were with me on the road and I left them. They became my family," Gendry had explained, after Mott gave him a confused expression.

"Well then. Until then."

As Gendry stood up, he turned to Mott. "By the way, what are the people talking about outside? A Red Wedding? Did King Joffrey finally marry?"

Mott shrugged. "Word on the street is that Robb Stark and his company were slaughtered at the Freys last week. War's over. They're calling it the Red Wedding or something."

Fear rushed over Gendry, clutching at his heart. "Did they say anything about who was with him?"

"His mother, wife, and men, far as I know."

"His sister wasn't there?"

"Lady Sansa's still in the Red Keep, lad. And the other sister's been missing for years now."

 _No she hasn't_ , Gendry thought to himself. He swallowed. "Mott, I think I need to be here for as long as you'll let me."

Gendry had been with the Blacksmith ever since. He stayed hidden at the back of the shop, only occasionally coming forward to speak with people, making sure he held eye contact for as short a time as possible. He made the steel sing again as he hit it, and remembered a time when that was the sweetest happiness he could imagine - but now, every hit was punctuated with, "I'm going to stay on and smith for the Brotherhood." "Have you lost your mind?!"

He should never have said she could go on without him. Maybe he would know where she was now.

He knew that he wanted to find her. He _desperately_ wanted to find her, the girl with the wild eyes and wild hair, the loyal girl with a tongue as sharp as cut glass. But he didn't know where to begin.

As far as everyone else was concerned, Arya Stark was dead. He was one of few who knew different.

But just knowing different didn't give Gendry a big enough reason to leave King's Landing. He convinced himself this was where he needed to be. He could find her one day, maybe.

As the news spread into Fleabottom that Cersei was now to be crowned Queen, Mott had shut up shop early and taken Gendry aside.

"King Tommen is dead," he said urgently. "I will shield you here for as long as I can, I promise. I won't let you down again. But you are now the only person in this world left with either the Baratheon name or Baratheon blood."

Gendry stared at him.

"You are a threat to the crown, and that puts you in danger. Gendry, you need to leave King's Landing within the week."

—

She wasn't no-one. She was a wolf. She was the She-Wolf of Winterfell, Arya Stark of Winterfell.

When she shut her eyes, she could feel the ground beneath four feet, the panting of her pack surrounding her. She could see the trees and stars above her, in a clarity that was not possible with humans eyes.

She was Nymeria. And Nymeria was her. They were one.

Winterfell was home.

But Winterfell did not have Starks in it.

The She-Wolf would need to take it back. Take it back with a hundred wolves. Show the world that House Stark was not dead in the ground.

As she weaved through the trees, she kept opening and shutting her eyes, allowing the wolf to take over.

She didn't know where Nymeria was.

But she would find her.


	3. Chapter 3

She heard the singing before she saw the figures singing - but she would know that voice, and that song, anywhere at all.

 _"And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of Castamere; but now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no-one there to hear; Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a soul to hear."_

Arya felt a mixture of anger and bile rise up in her throat. But of course, the Brotherhood would still be here. Their stronghold still hadn't been found. Instinctively, she darted behind one of the thick trees that tangled their way in these woods, her left hand grabbing Needle for comfort.

 _"What are you doing? LET GO OF HIM! …. HE WANTS TO BE ONE OF YOU!"_

The words spun round her memory, and Arya had to grit her teeth to shut them down. She would never forgive Thoros for his betrayal, never. Her hand had begun to stroke Needle, peacefully imaging how it would feel to slice it between Thoros' ribs.

She heard the group stop just beyond her tree, and the thumping sound of heavy packs being dropped to the ground.

"Well thank fuck you've stopped singing that piece of utter shit," a new, gruff voice added.

 _He's dead!_ Arya's head was spinning. _I left him for dead!_

"Now, now, Clegane," Thoros was laughing. "We've been hospitable to you. You should return the favour."

"By listening to your horseshit?" The Hound guffawed. "Where's the leftover of the fucking chicken. That might help me forget the atrocity of your singing."

Arya felt herself physically fighting with her limbs to stay pinned against that tree, her teeth grinding. _He killed Mycah, and the other sold Gendry._ She could not. She was not able to stay there, hidden, whilst they laughed and sang and ate chicken.

Before she could think through her plan, or stop to think at all, Arya found herself rushing out from behind the tree, Needle outstretched, running through the undergrowth to where the men sat.

Sandor Clegane dropped his chicken in shock as she appeared.

"Arya fucking Stark," he said in disbelief.

"What, think I was dead?" she snarled. "I thought _you_ were. How in seven hells are you still alive?"

"The Red God's not done with him yet," Thoros replied calmly. "Hello again Little Lady. It's been a long while."

She whipped away from the Hound to face Thoros, resting Needle against his neck, her eyes looking at him full of venom.

"It's alright," Thoros said, in the same calm, mildly amused voice, his arms outstretched. "Don't pick up your arms lads. It'll be alright." He looked Arya directly in the eye. "I'm glad to see you unharmed, Little Lady. It's a dangerous world out there for Ned Stark's daughter."

"Don't mock me." Arya pressed Needle harder against his neck.

"I'm not."

"He wanted to be one of you. And you betrayed him," she spat. "Where is he? Where did she take him?"

The Hound burst out laughing. "If it's not one boy you want revenge for, it's another fucking one." He pointed his chicken bone at Thoros. "Should've known she'd be back for him one day. She didn't let me forget that Butcher's Boy for three fucking years."

He busied himself with his chicken again as Arya gave him a death stare. They may have resolved their differences two years ago, but the Hound was smart enough to know that Arya would never forgive him for Mycah, whatever he said.

"Well?" she asked again. "WHY?"

"We needed the money, Little Lady."

"Stop calling me that," Arya said in disgust. "I'm not your Lady, Little or otherwise."

"Look, girl, take the sword from my neck. We can talk. We have food." Thoros gestured to the packs, and one of the Brothers brought over some bread to him. He held it out to Arya. "It's yours. We can talk. There's no need for bloodshed, girl."

"How do you know his blood wasn't shed? WHERE IS HE?"

Thoros didn't reply, looking explicitly at the sword.

Angrily, Arya lowered it. She wanted nothing more than to shove it between his ribs - but she knew that doing so now meant certain death. She snatched at the bread, trying her hardest not to show how famished she was.

"Since you're all big on the loyalty thing, you might appreciate this information," Thoros said after a few minutes of Arya chewing. "Your Uncle Edmure is apparently held captive in the dungeon of the Twins."

"How do you know that? And why should I trust you?"

"You just held a sword at my throat. I'm not about to start lying to you, little L- girl." One of the brothers threw Thoros a flask of wine. "And I have never lied to you. I kept you from harm."

"And threw him INTO harm," Arya almost shouted back.

She had just been at the Twins, and was under no great desire to go back. But Thoros was right. She was nothing if not loyal - and that was her family. Gendry was as good as family; but Edmure _was_ family.

"I am sorry for what happened," Thoros said quietly. "I truly don't know what became of the boy. If I ever hear of him again, I will seek you out. But this is me trying to make amends, girl. Your family is at the Twins. I hear his wife and child - your cousin - are locked away in the Twins too."

Arya sat playing with her sword belt, saying nothing.

"You still have family, girl. You have my word that if I find the boy, he will know you are looking for him. But go after those that you know are still alive for you."

She turned to Thoros. "I can't thank you. Because to thank you would mean I forgive you for him - and I don't. Until I know he is safe, I never will."

"You can't thank me, but you do anyway," Thoros finished for her. "Go. And know the Brotherhood is a safe place for you to return to."

"You said that before," Arya scowled. "And you hurt him."

She stood up, grabbing another piece of bread as she rose.

"Clegane," Thoros whistled. "You'll go with her. You can come back here after. But keep the little lady safe."

"He's a useless piece of shit!" Aria shouted disgustedly.

"A useless piece of shit who kept you safe until you left him for dead, so I understand it," Thoros shrugged.

"Well, girl," the Hound stood up, reaching for his axe and a bag of supplies. "It seems we are traveling partners once more."

Arya made a noise of disgust and turned away, beginning to tramp through the undergrowth, Sandor Clegane at her heels.

—

For the first time in his life, Jaime Lannister realised he had nothing to say to his sister. He needed to speak with her - but say what? Nobody but Brienne knew the reason he killed Aerys.

Brienne.

The memory of her and Podrick Payne rowing quietly away from Riverrun sent pain shooting through him. He had let her go. He had let her go to return to this massacre in King's Landing.

Jaime knew what he must do. For goodness sake, he had killed Aerys for less than what Cersei had done. _Another stain must be added to my name,_ he thought, feeling a mixture of sadness and anger.

But, stood outside Cersei's room, Jaime could not bring himself to go in. He shut his eyes, and heard a memory of himself saying, _"It's forged from Ned Stark's sword. You'll use it to defend Ned Stark's daughter."_

Another sword had been forged from Ned's sword. A sword that had been Joffrey's, and had been passed down to Tommen.

Jaime turned away from Cersei's door and ran through the winding corridor to what had been Tommen's chambers. And in there, sat on the table, was Widow's Wail. Jaime threw himself forwards and grabbed it.

 _I will use it to defend Ned Stark's daughter_ , he found himself thinking.

Nobody could know where Jaime was planning to go, or he would be killed for sure. He would be marked as a traitor, a betrayer to House Lannister. The Lannisters and Starks were staunch enemies.

 _But I am not a true Lannister_ , Jaime thought to himself. _Not if being a true Lannister means burning my enemies alive_.

Jaime tied the sword into his sword belt and snuck out of one of the back doors of the Keep, that could eventually take you down to Flea Bottom. This sword needed treatment, urgently - but he trusted nobody in the castle to do it. Everybody was in league with his sister now.

He would have to hope that the poor Blacksmith in the city was a trustworthy man.


	4. Chapter 4

Gendry's few belongings were shoved into a pack over the next day. Mott had said he must leave within the week - but Gendry came to his own conclusion that the sooner he got out of King's Landing, the better.

"I'll leave under cover of night," he told Mott that morning.

"Smart," Mott agreed. "Where will you go?"

Gendry shrugged.

"The North might be a safe bet," Mott said. "Winter is coming. You won't get chased far North."

"Yes, but the North has the Boltons skinning people alive," Gendry pointed out.

Mott shook his head. "I hear things from some of the higher borns who come through here. They say Sansa Stark has returned to Winterfell - and her older brother Jon Snow has been named Lord of Winterfell and King in the North."

"The Starks have the North again?" _Arya,_ Gendry silently added to himself.

"From what I hear. The North was a safe place with them ruling."

 _I could go to Winterfell_ , Gendry found himself thinking. No, that was a stupid dream. Arya wasn't there - and he could hardly turn up at the gates of Winterfell and proclaim that he had abandoned a Stark.

"I'll find somewhere to go," Gendry reassured Mott. "I just need to get out of here."

Mott had left Gendry in charge of the forge that afternoon. Business had finally slowed to a halt, and Mott had headed for the door saying how badly he was in need of an ale.

Gendry busied himself tidying up the forge as best he could, his nerves on edge. In a few hours he would head out of King's Landing. Both how and where, he did not know. He knew at the back of his mind that he wanted to find Arya - but he could not do that or focus on that until he was out of danger's way.

A rap at the door broke Gendry away from his thoughts. It sounded almost metallic, as though a sword had been hit against the door.

He peered out of the window, and saw a figure huddled in a grey cloak, a sword clutched in their left hand, partially hidden by the cloak.

Gendry swallowed, and opened the door halfway.

"I need your help," the figure whispered. His voice sounded highborn.

"What can I do for you, ser," Gendry replied, looking at his feet. If this man was highborn, then he could potentially be a danger to Gendry's safety. But to turn him away would arouse yet more suspicion.

"I need your promise that this will be done in the upmost confidence."

"You have my word, ser."

"May I come in?"

Gendry opened the door wider for the man, bolting it up behind him.

He turned around to find the man had pulled the hood of his cloak aside - and Ser Jaime Lannister was stood in his forge.

Panic swelled in his chest. This man was a member of the family who had killed other children of Gendry's blood. By putting off leaving until nightfall for safety, Gendry realised that, ironically, he was now in more danger than he had ever been in in his life.

"As I said," Ser Jaime said quietly, "I need your word that nobody will know I was here."

"You have my word, m'lord," Gendry replied.

 _The boy's a Baratheon_ , Jaime noticed immediately. He could see Robert's look stamped across the boy's face. How had Cersei let this boy survive, when she had gone as far as to murder babies to secure her children's name?

 _He's a Baratheon and he knows it_. The boy was desperately avoiding eye contact, and looked like he would rather be anywhere on earth than here right now.

Jaime held out Widow's Wail. "Here," he said. "I need this sharpened, polished, tidied up." He swallowed. "It's Valyrian steel."

The boy's eyes shot up, and Jaime met the bright blueness of them with what he hoped was a warm look.

"Yes, m'lord," the boy muttered, awkwardly taking Widow's Wail over to the counter at the side of the forge.

"It's alright. I'm not here to hurt you," Jaime said in a tone he hoped was reassuring.

"M'lord?"

"Don't play stupid. You're one of Robert Baratheon's bastards."

The boy didn't reply, and busied himself lightly tapping the edges of the sword with a hammer.

"What do they call you?"

"Gendry, m'lord," the boy replied after a pause.

"And how long have you been in King's Landing, Gendry? I wonder how my sister missed you." Jaime cursed himself in his head. Even now, when he wanted nothing more to do with Cersei, he found himself making jokes for her at the expense of others.

"I wasn't here for a few years," Gendry admitted. "Got sold to the Watch, but your men killed the people taking us there."

Jaime saw the Gendry immediately curse after saying that, and he laughed to himself at how the boy seemed concerned he had caused offence.

"I wonder why you would come back to a place like this."

"Had nowhere else to go, m'lord."

There were a few moments of silence except for Gendry working away at the sword.

"I would wager you haven't seen many Valyrian steel swords here."

"No, m'lord. I wonder - no."

Jaime looked at the boy. "It's alright. As I said, I'm not here to hurt you. Ask anything you want. You're doing me a favour promising nobody will know how I'm here."

"I just wonder - is it a family heirloom, m'lord? There aren't many swords of Valyrian steel in the world anymore. M'lord," he added hastily.

"In a sense. It was my nephew's. But it was reforged from Lord Eddard Stark's sword after he died," Jaime admitted.

At the mention of 'Stark', Jaime noticed that Gendry paused in his hammering, and a wave of pain seemed to shudder across his face. The boy swallowed and then continued, albeit slightly more shakily than before.

"You don't approve of what happened to Lord Stark?"

"I - it's not my place to say, m'lord."

Jaime sighed. "If it's any consolation, neither do I anymore. What came of the Starks has come to be a terrible business."

Gendry looked up at Jaime, and there was hatred etched across his face that Jaime couldn't comprehend. Why did this lowborn boy seem to care so much about the Starks?

"My Master told me Jon Snow is now King in the North. He and Sansa Stark reclaimed Winterfell," Gendry said with an angry edge to his voice that Jaime could not comprehend. Jaime noted that 'm'lord' had been omitted. Something about the Starks clearly got this boy on edge.

"Well, that's bad for my House. But no longer for me to deal with," Jaime shrugged.

"M'lord?"

"Look, lad, the reason I'm here instead of at the Red Keep forge is because I'm leaving King's Landing. What my sister has done here is unforgiveable. And I swore a vow. To return the Stark girls to their mother, many years ago," Jaime wasn't sure what made him feel he could talk to this boy. But he knew, unswervingly, that he trusted him. "Lady Stark died before I could fulfil that promise. I know, Starks and Lannisters are enemies," he smiled, noting how Gendry's mouth was slightly open in shock. "But that's all changed now. I cannot stay here and support a Queen who burns innocent people to the ground. I must protect Sansa Stark, and fulfil my oath to a dead woman."

"What about Arya Stark?" Gendry said the words so fast he almost babbled them.

"Arya Stark? Nobody's heard from her in years. My bet would be she died in King's Landing five years ago."

"You're wrong." Gendry babbled it out again, then looked like somebody had smacked him across the face. He hurriedly got back to sharpening the sword edge.

"Pardon?" Jaime said slowly.

"Nothing, m'lord."

"You knew Arya Stark? She still lives?"

Gendry's jaw was grinding.

"I've already promised I won't hurt you. I will keep that promise. _Tell me_. This is important."

"I don't know. I was with her. Then we got torn apart. But that was three years ago now. _I was meant to keep her safe_." A wave of pain washed over Gendry's face, and Jaime heard him sniff as he carried on cleaning the sword.

Jaime dithered on the spot. "Come with me," he said hurriedly.

"M'lord?" Gendry's eyes widended.

"I plan to head to Winterfell. If you are loyal to Arya Stark, _come with me_. You cannot stay here. If she is still out there, _we will find her._ "

"How can I trust you," the boy almost spat out. "So many lords and ladies have tried to 'help' me. And they've abandoned me and used me. You don't see us lowborn people as real people, do you?"

"I do," Jaime said quietly. "I have done some terrible things in my life. It has taken me too long to see people on level footing. And for that I can only apologise and feel ashamed. But this is me _trying_ to make amends."

Gendry was almost finished with the sword, and was carefully tying the scabbard back into the sword belt.

"If you knew Arya Stark, come with me. You want to find her again?"

Gendry's eyes were filled with pain. Jaime didn't wait for him to reply - he could see the answer as clear as day in the boy's eyes.

"Ironically, being in the company of a Lannister is probably one of the safest places for you," Jaime reached for Widow's Wail. "I vowed to return the Stark girls to their mother - to their home. I see that as stretching to protect those who care for them."

The boy ducked down for a pack under the counter. "I know how to work a sword. If you betray me, I'm not going to take it lying down this time."

Jaime chuckled, pulling his cloak back on. "Gendry, from what I know of Arya Stark, I can understand why you two got along."

—

Winterfell was finally just in front of them.

Lady Brienne of Tarth felt relief wash over her. As her and Podrick Payne had journeyed North, they had heard many stories of Jon Snow being crowned King in the North. From a distance, she could see the Direwolf banners of House Stark hanging on Winterfell once more.

Brienne thought as to how Lady Catelyn would have felt, knowing one of her beloved daughters was safely in those walls. She knew Lady Catelyn had a history of hatred for the bastard Jon Snow - but surely even she would have recognised that Jon was the best protector of Sansa there could be now.

"M'lady? Are you alright?" Pod asked.

"Yes, Pod. I am relieved that Lady Sansa has her ancestral home back."

The gates of Winterfell opened to them, and Brienne saw Lady Sansa rushing towards them before they had even had a chance to dismount.

"I am sorry, my lady," Brienne said, head bowed. "I am sorry I could not secure the Tully army to assist you in battle."

"It's alright. We are safe. That's all that matters." Sansa gave a small smile. "I've had two bedrooms made up for you. House Stark requests that you two remain as part of the household."

Pod bowed his head. "You honour us, Lady Sansa."

"You returned me to my brother. To my home. Winterfell is a home to you both. Now and always. I hope you know that."

"Thank you, my lady. That is most kind of you," Brienne clutched at Oathkeeper, as she always did in moments of emotion.

"There is hot food in the kitchen. I imagine you will want some after your journey."

—

"I can manage by myself," Arya said grumpily.

"Aye, course you can. You lived a whole 2 years after you left me! But you need another person with you, girl."

"Why?"

Sandor Clegane rolled his eyes, dumping his heavy body down on the ground and pulling out a flask of ale. "Because one of us can free your Uncle while the other rescues his wife and child. Too difficult otherwise."

"I don't think you understand. I CAN MANAGE MYSELF."

"And I don't think YOU understand how dangerous the Twins is. Walder Frey killed your family, or do you forget that?"

"I know. I killed him a few days ago."

The Hound spat out his mouthful of ale. "You WHAT girl?"

"I told you. I can manage by myself."

"If Frey is dead, that makes it even more dangerous."

"Why should I trust you?"

"I could have killed you or turned you over a hundred times, girl. But I took care of you."

Arya shrugged. "We wait for cover of darkness."

"Aye. And I can get some fucking rest before that."

Arya lay down on the ground, leaving a decent sized gap between herself and the Hound, her hand tightly wrapped around Needle. She shut her eyes and dreamed.

Nymeria was so close that it almost hurt her. She missed Nymeria so much that it physically hurt. Seeing the world through Nymeria's eyes only made her miss her more.

Once they had found her family, she would find Nymeria. And with Nymeria, she would be able to avenge Gendry.


End file.
